Last Saturday morning, at 10:45 to be precise, my boyfriend, best friend and I sat like fugitives in the car park of our nearest McDonalds Drive-Thru, eating Quarter Pounders and Big Macs greedily and with haste. I am not proud to admit that we were feeling a little worse for wear following a dinner party consisting of mainly liquid sustenance but hungover we were and in great need of deep-fried fats, sugar and salt.
It occurred to us as were setting off on our journey towards the yellow arches that as 21+ year olds we should really have got past the age of hiding things from our parents. Since reaching our angst ridden teenage years and coming (relatively unscathed) out the other side we have got tattoos, been drunk, smoked and dabbled in narcotics, all under the despairing eyes of Mother and Father. Obviously when caught with a cigarette/bottle of vodka/tattoo when you’re younger you look at your parents with rolling eyes and tut “Yeah I have got a cigarette/bottle of vodka/tattoo. And what? I’m not a child”. We got over it and (we hope) so did they.
But this? McDonalds at 10:45 in the morning? Wearing leggings with holes in and an old hoody? Oh no. No, no, no. That will not do. Best Friend had to lie to her Mum, saying that she had left some work at mine and so HAD to go back as soon as possible to collect it. Boyfriend and I nodded sincerely at Best Friend’s Mother and hurried out, as subtly as we could manage, to my car.
You would think that managing to get out of the house without suspicion was the most difficult task of the morning. Negative. Once arriving at our nearest ‘restaurant’ we were so embarrassed that we had arrived at such an ungodly hour, looking completely hideous and wearing outfits akin to rags, that we became too scared to go inside. Obviously the only option (other than realizing the error of our ways and heading home) was the Drive-Thru followed by sitting in the car park, devouring our meals whilst still wearing our seatbelts. Then hiding the evidence.
The most ridiculous part of the whole sneaky day was that my brother, a few hours after we had got home and he had discovered our McSecret, snuck out of the house, drove to the same McDonalds that we had visited that very morning to purchase himself a McMeal to McGo. On finding that there were no spaces in the car park he decided to drive home, making sure he stopped at the end of our road to devour his meal and then hide the evidence, naturally. He even hid his burger and pretended to be on the phone if a pedestrian passed by.
So what’s with all the secrets and lies? How and when did McDonalds become such a taboo? I’d like to think that it has always been common knowledge that what goes into a McDonalds burger is reconstituted garbage and yet there are 1,115 McDonalds restaurants in the UK alone (the 4th highest in the world) turning over £1.5 billion a year. Us Brits (and indeed most of the rest of the world) love it and no matter how many television programmes, newspaper articles and campaigns there are attempting to blast McDonalds popularity we just keep going back.
Whilst writing this blog (it has taken a few days, forgive me) Luxirare went to press, as it were, with this McDonalds inspired post. I love the fact that even the most luxe of food bloggers succumbs to the greasy, salty goodness of a McDonalds. I love even more that she has added a gentle shaving of truffle, simply because she had it lying around. Awesome.